


The Perfect Goodbye

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Biting, F/M, Fingering, Oral Sex, Pegging, Scratching, Smut, Use of vibrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16989813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: Sam was once your saviour. But, he refuses to let you grow and ignores your strength. When you hit your breaking point, you have to say goodbye to the man you once loved.





	The Perfect Goodbye

“Here ‘ya go… just don’t tell Sammy,” Dean says as he hands you a shotgun. 

You roll your eyes at him but cannot stop yourself from skipping with excitement. Sam has gone out for a nighttime run and Dean promised he would teach you how to shoot the bigger guns today. 

The boys are easing you into the hunting life, or at least Dean is. Sam is much more reluctant to teach you any real skills. You came to live with them after they found you tied up, beaten, and nearly drained of all livelihood in the basement of a vamp’s nest.  You thought it was going to be a temporary solution. However, the brothers took you under their wing. You could have left. You could have gone back to your old life. But, you soon realized that nothing could compare to the true home you found with the Winchesters. 

Dean is the best friend you have ever had. He doesn’t judge you or make you feel small. To him, you are capable of anything. It is his confidence in you that helped you recover from your PTSD. 

But the true reason you stuck around so long is Sam. Where Dean is the big brother you didn’t know you wanted, Sam is the love you didn’t know you needed. He would stay up with you all through the night when your nightmares kept you awake. He would hold you and take care of you in ways that repaired your broken spirit. Because of Sam, you are no longer afraid. He lets you express yourself in ways no other man has ever let you. He let you rebuild your confidence and dominance in the safety of his bedroom. You soon became even more than the girl you once were. You weren’t just surviving, you were thriving. After your relationship with Sam blossomed, you couldn’t leave. He was more than your saviour, he was kind and gentle. But sometimes, too gentle. 

When it comes to your training, Sam is reluctant to let you dive in. He only ever teaches you defensive moves, never offensive. It only got worse after you made your relationship official. Sam keeps you away from what Dean calls the ‘big boy toys’. He also never lets you help during hunts, outside of research duty. 

It drives you insane when he tries to shelter you from his world. He doesn’t think you can handle it. Sam still sees you as the scared girl who slept with a syringe of dead man’s blood under your pillow. You don’t blame him. He was there for every flashback, nightmare, and panic attack. You don’t blame him for still being worried about you. But for you, those wounds have healed long ago. You are no longer a victim. Thanks to the Winchesters, you are a fighter. 

That’s why you started to work with Dean while Sam goes out. You want to become a hunter and save other people in the same way they saved you. You asked Dean to train you, so you can show Sam you’re ready. You want to prove to Sam you’re stronger than he thinks you are. 

So tonight, you’re working with Dean in the shooting range. You squeeze the trigger and hit your target dead on. Dean lets out an impressed whistle. 

“Soon you ain’t going to need me anymore, sweetheart. Hell, you may be able to teach me a thing or two.”

You know he’s a big fat liar. No one can out shoot a Winchester. But, you blush under his praise anyway. “Do you really think he’ll ever let me tag along?” 

Dean strokes his jaw where there is the beginning of a bruise forming. When you two were sparing earlier, you caught him a little too hard. It was an accident, but it was oddly satisfying knocking a Winchester on his ass. “After he sees your left hook?” Dean laughs. “The dude will be begging for your help.”

“Thanks,” you offer Dean a shy smile. 

“Lord knows that boy is used to begging you for  _ other things _ ,” Dean says with a teasing wink. 

Your cheeks flush and you push on his shoulder. “Why do you always have to make things weird?”

“Walls are thin, my dear. It’s not like I can avoid it.”

Your giggling is cut off when the door swings open and Sam walks through. He’s out of breath from his run and chugging a bottle of water. 

“What are you two doing in here?” he asks. But before you can answer, he sees that you’re holding a shotgun. He rushes over to snatch it from you. 

“Hey!” you exclaim as he empties it of its bullets. “Sam, stop!”

He tosses the disarmed weapon onto the able behind him. “What the hell was that? Why did she have a gun?” Sam asks his brother. 

“Dean was teaching me how to-”

“I wasn’t asking you!” Sam cuts you off. “Dean, what the hell?” Sam throws his arms out to the side.

“Relax, Sammy. The kid is a good shot,” Dean says as he shows Sam you demolished target. 

“I don’t care! I told you not to let her near any of this stuff,” Sam chides at his brother. 

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” Dean defends you both. 

“Sam,” you touch his shoulder to get his attention. You are biting back your impulse to rip into him for talking about you like you aren’t there. “I asked Dean to teach me about the hunting essentials: fighting, shooting… drinking,” you quip but your joke falls flat. Neither brother laughs. Your feeble attempt at lighting the mood only increases Sam’s annoyance. 

“This isn’t a joke, Y/N!” Sam reminds you of the obvious. The brothers are known for laughing in the face of danger. So, it annoys the hell out of you that when you try to play along Sam gets mad, even though there isn’t any real danger.

“I know that, but-”

“Forget it,” Sam cuts you off. “Come on, let’s just go to bed,” Sam ends the discussion before it even starts. He leaves the room and expects you to follow. You look back at Dean and he gives you an exacerbated shrug. You’re not the only one who thinks Sam is being unfair. 

You follow him into your shared bedroom but you have no intention of letting this go. He moves in behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. His tight hold over you and the warmth he is emitting almost makes you forget your stance, almost. 

“Sam, we have to talk about this,” you stand your ground. “I  _ want to _ talk about this. I want this to be a serious discussion,” you say as his lips moves in to distract you.

He is mouthing at your neck in a mix of wet kisses and soft nips. He pulls on the collar of your shirt to expose the rest of your shoulder. He pulls away from you. 

“What the hell is this?” he says with a mix of anger and worry in his voice. You turn in his hold and look down to where he is scrutinizing your bare shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” you reassure him. You have a large bruise on your shoulder from the kickback of the shotgun. The force of it caught you off guard the first time, but you got used to it. It barely even hurts anymore. You’ve dealt with much worse. 

Sam doesn’t accept your words at face value. He pulls open your shirt without warning. But, there is no lustful hunger in his eyes, only pure dread. As he pulls the fabric off of you, he scans your bare upper half. He finds fresh bruises on your stomach and arms. He knows those aren’t from him. The bruises he leaves on you tend to accumulate on your hips and thighs. These aren’t his, and they don’t look like they were given out of love, they look angry. 

He reaches out and traces one of the larger bruises with the pads of his fingers. You flinch away from the slight pain of having your fresh bruise poked at. That proved to be a mistake because an undeniable anger settles in his eyes. You push his hands away and try to cover yourself. You have never been shy under his gaze. But, the way he is scrutinizing you with his intense stare is making you uncomfortable. 

“I’m only going to ask you once, Y/N. Where did these come from?” The idea of someone hurting you is wearing his patience thin. From Sam’s perspective, you have been through enough and you don’t deserve anymore pain.

“Relax, they’re not a big deal. Dean and I were-”

“Dean did this to you?” Sam all but shouts at you. He is about to storm out of the room but you grab his wrist to stop him.

“We were just practicing! We weren’t actually fighting. Trust me, you should see him. I gave just as good as I got,” you cannot stifle the pride in your voice. 

“That doesn’t matter! I thought we agreed that you would stay out of this part of my life. You know how I feel about you getting-”

“No,  _ we didn't _ agree on anything! You just assumed that I would do as I was told. I’ve tried telling you a hundred times that I am in this with you, all the way. I’m trying to show you that I’ll do whatever it takes to be more than I was. I’m not scared anymore. I can do this. I can fight alongside you. We can be a team!” you lay your cards on the table. You are improving yourself not just for him but your own sake as well. 

“Why is it so hard for you to understand that I don’t want you to be involved in this life. I could never bring you on a hunt because I’d be too worried about you, I’d get distracted. Someone will inevitably get hurt because of you. We’re not a team. We never will be,” Sam states his simple truth. 

The finality of his words is jarring. You always knew he was protective and distant when it came to the prospect of you hunting. But now, you’re finding out it isn’t simply because he cares about you. It is because he doesn’t think you’re capable, he doesn’t want you disrupting his well-oiled machine. 

Sam groans as he realizes how harsh his words sounded. “Y/N/N, I didn’t mean-”

“You meant every word,” you say as you pick your discarded shirt off the ground and slip it back on.

“What are doing?” Sam asks as you open his closet and pull out one of his spare duffle bags. When you don’t respond, Sam rips the bag from your grasp. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he repeats his question with more force. 

“You said it yourself, you don’t want me involved in the hunting aspects of your life. But Sam,” you speak in a softer tone, “you’re a hunter. Hunting is the  _ main aspect _ of your life. And, if you won’t let me be a part of it then there is no place for me here.”

Sam throws the bag across the room. “No,” the defiance in his voice is undeniable. “If you leave, how am I supposed to protect you?”

“It’s not your job to protect me!” you are losing your patience. “You helped me get through one of the worst experiences of my life. You taped together my broken pieces. But, you keep acting as if I’m still that broken girl. You keep me locked away. I can’t keep sitting pretty on the shelf waiting for you to come back from a hunt. Sometimes, I think you wish I would have stayed broken. You liked playing the savior for your weak damsel. But that’s not who we are anymore, no matter how hard you cling to that fantasy.” You can’t seem to shut yourself up. You know Sam means well and you feel bad unloading all of this onto him but you’re too frustrated to stop. Your tired of being treated like you are helpless.

“I’m sorry,” Sam says as he strides up to you. He places his hands on your shoulders and pulls you in close. “I never wanted you to feel that way,” you relax under his touch and his promising words. Hope springs within you that he may be willing have a real discussion with you about this. But, those hopes are dashed within seconds. “Just promise me you’ll stop training. Promise me you’ll give me time to think about it. I can’t guarantee-”

You push away from his grasp. “What? You’re making it sound like it is your decision what I do with my life. If I want to hunt, I will hunt. I don’t need your permission,” it is your turn to state your truth. 

“It is my decision,” Sam’s tone suggests he is stating something obvious. “You’re not the one who went weeks without sleep because I had to make sure you didn’t die from your injuries or go catatonic from your nightmares. You’re not the one who had to watch the person you love most teeter on the edge of giving up because she couldn’t deal with what happened. I can’t watch you go through that again. If anything was to happen to you… I can’t let anything happen to you,” Sam says with finality. 

“You’re right. I didn’t have to deal with any of that stuff. But, that’s only because I was dealing with it first-hand! I dealt with it and I came out stronger on the other side. But you keep trying to push me back to where I used to be, to  _ who  _ I used to be.”

You see the realization wash over Sam. He knows he has pushed you too far. He reaches for you but you flinch away from him. 

As you continue packing the duffle bag with all your belongings, you are forced to listen to a soundtrack of Sam pleading with you to stop. He begs you to stay. His breaking and shaking voice almost kills you but you need to leave. You need to show him, and yourself, that you can be the strong woman you know you’ve become. 

You finally finish packing and turn to face him. His eyes have watered over and you lean in to kiss his cheek goodbye. You try and pull away but his unrelenting fingers have gripped onto your wrists. He is using his strength in a vain attempt to overpower you. You slip out of his grip easily enough using one of the defensive moves Dean had shown you a couple weeks ago. You don’t hurt him but rather surprise him. He never knew the extent of your strength, he never wanted to know. 

You climb into your crappy car and speed out of the bunker’s garage before he tries to stop you again. You only drive to the next town over. It is late and you’re too exhausted to go further. After a resting at a dingy motel for the night, you’ll get on the road and find yourself your first case. You’ll start slow, a simple salt and burn. But, you have a feeling it won’t be long before you’ll be able to go toe to toe with the big bads. 

By the time you check in and get settled, you already have a slew of missed call and unanswered texts. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his effort. Sam begs you to come back. He promises he’ll consider training you himself but that isn’t enough for you. You don’t want him to just consider you, you want him to accept you. 

You pull the battery out of your phone and toss it into a glass of water. You want to fall asleep tonight knowing he cannot track you down. You want to fall asleep tonight knowing that when you wake up, you’ll have an exciting, albeit a little scary, life head of you. 

* * *

Months have passed since you left the bunker. You have a new collection of scars that litter your skin but you wear each one with pride. Each one signifies a victory, you got beaten down but got back up again. You have started to take on larger hunts and even assisted other hunters. You would always avoid mentioning your connection to the Winchesters. You figured the other hunters’ loyalty would lie with the brothers and not with a newbie like you. You still aren’t ready for someone to rat out your location. 

But, lately you’ve been working alone. You like working at your own pace and doing things your own way. 

This new hunt started simple enough. You rolled into a town that had an obvious werewolf problem. You disguise yourself as a journalist with a knack for exposing the truth behind urban legends. The locals were getting antsy that there was a bigfoot-like creature lurking in the nearby forests. The local cops were eager to put the public at ease. So, they accepted your help and gave you access to police reports. 

It didn’t take long for you to find your prime suspect. His name is Kenny Write. His is the patriarch of a makeshift family of loners and misfits. They live on the outskirts of town, right in the heart of where the attacks took place. You weren’t convinced it was him until you found hospital records of him being treated for severe burns caused by a silver allergy. 

You stalk up to the front door of his secluded home and knock. When the door creaks open a tall and looming figure stares you down. You had a whole speech prepared. It was an elaborate lie about you being lost and needing to use their phone. You didn’t want to just barge in and start killing people if you weren’t completely sure they were actually wolves. You had to test all the inhabitants of this rundown shack they call home. 

But before you can even get a word in, the familiar sound of the Impala’s engine catches your attention. You turn to see her tearing down the long driveway. You roll your eyes. So much for subtly. 

The next thing you know the man standing behind you takes advantage of your distraction. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into the house. The last thing you see before your attacker kicks the front door shut, is Sam’s eyes widen in recognition and fear as he gets out of the car. Through the wooden door you hear him scream your name. Unfortunately, you are not in a position to reply. You are now surrounded by a pissed off pack of werewolves. 

You wiggle out of your captor’s grasp by digging your nails into his arm and kicking your foot back to hit him in the chin. You now have full mobility, but are still outnumbered. You pull out your gun from the waistband of your pants and a silver blade out of your boot. You stand at the ready. Two of the werewolves lunge forward toward you. The others are attempting to keep the front door shut while the Winchesters try to break it down. 

You put down the two wolves who were coming at you. One got a bullet to the heart, the other lost his head. You move toward the wolves who are blocking the door. But before you can get to them, the Winchesters have pushed their way inside.

You figure they can handle all the monsters in their vicinity. So, you leave them to go to check the rest of the house for any others or maybe some survivors. 

Sam yells after you and follows you up the stairs. He grips your arm and forces you to face him. For the first time in months you come face to face with the man you pushed away. As his pleading eyes tear into you, you forget why you even left in the first place. It isn’t until he wraps an arm around you and tries dragging you out of the house and to safety do you remember why. 

You are standing on the second landing of the stairs when you break free from his hold over you. You’re about to give him a piece of your mind. But before you can, a female wolf comes tearing down the stairs in Sam’s direction. Her teeth are bared and her claws are ready to do damage. She has heard the commotion and the sound of her pack dying. You can see the murderous glint in her eyes. As she nears Sam, you step in front of him and take the hit. 

The force of her pounce sends you and her tumbling down the rest of the stairs. Your head cracks against the railing. You fight to stay conscious because if you let yourself slip away, she will tear you open. 

Sam screams for you and empties his entire chamber into the she wolf's back. She falls limp over you and you finally let your muscles relax. 

The next thing you know, her body is being lifted off you and tossed to the side. Sam hauls you to your feet. You tell him you’re fine but your uneven and wobbly steps tell him otherwise. You are just stubborn enough to believe that you can make it outside on your own. Unfortunately, your entire world goes black before you even reach the door. 

* * *

You wake up in an all too familiar bed. You groan when you recognize the sheets. This is not where you want to be. But of course, Sam couldn’t resist the urge to bring you back home, if only he knew this isn’t your home anymore. 

You shift on the bed and attempt to pull yourself up. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sam’s voice startles you. You thought you were alone. “Cas may have stopped by to heal your concussion but you still need to rest,” he informs you. 

“I’m fine.”

“Would you stop fighting me on this, please. Just humor me, lie back,” Sam commands. 

You only obey because you haven’t slept on a non-stained motel mattress in months, not because he told you to. 

Sam gets up from his chair beside the bed. He moves in to stand over you. He runs a finger across your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. You can’t help but lean into his touch. You haven’t been touched like this in months. “Come back to me,” he whispers. His fingers continue to trail through your hair and over your shoulder. You grip his wrist to stop his wandering hands. 

He thinks you will push him away or tell him to leave you alone. Instead, you scoot onto your knees and pull him onto the bed. He kneels in front of you. You nudge his shoulder. He falls back so he is sitting against the headboard. 

You straddle his lap and look into his eyes to gauge his reaction. The desperation in his creasing brows and the grip he has over your hips is feedback enough. You lean forward and capture his lips in a kiss you haven’t let yourself miss. In your time apart, you refused to let yourself think about Sam, what he could do to your body, or what he lets you do to his body. All those memories are flooding back into you now. The echo of your past relationship is causing you to deepen the kiss until it is more teeth than tongue. 

You grind down onto his lap and feel his hardening cock beneath his flimsy pajama pants. You let your cotton covered core work him over. He pushes up your top and exposes your breasts to his hungry mouth. He is in too much of a hurry to take the shirt all the way off. He merely scrunches it up by your shoulders before latching his teeth onto one of your pebbled nipples. He uses his right hand to pull your body closer to his and his left hand to attend to your other neglected breast. The ravenous man pushes you back so he can trail his mouth along your stomach. He hates seeing your skin blemished with new scars and fading bruises. But, finally having you back in his arms pushes those thoughts away. He will take you back in any form. 

His teeth find the elastic waistband of the boxers he had dressed you in while you were unconscious. He effectively throws you off his lap and rips the boxers down your legs. 

You lift your knees for him. He wastes no time settling between your legs. He now has more scruff on his face than you were used to but the scratchy sensation tickles you in all the right places. He places we kisses to the apex of your thighs and nips at the flesh of your mound. You squirm underneath him and he takes the hint. Suddenly, Sam’s lips latch onto your clit. He sucks down over you and flicks his tongue over the bud. 

Sam’s arms hook around your thighs as he drags you closer to his assaulting mouth. He abandons your clit to push against your entrance with the blunt tip of his tongue. With what little movement you are capable of, you grind down onto his face. His tongue delves deeper inside of you. 

His moans almost match the ferocity of your own. He’s missed your taste. Finally being able to taste you again is giving Sam everything he needs. 

He can feel you tightening around his tongue. He laps at your walls and digs his fingers into the flesh of your quaking thighs to keep them spread for him. 

Sam’s tongue forces an orgasm out of you in almost record time. As ripples of pleasure wash over you, you cry out for Sam. He captures your escaping wetness, unwilling to waste a drop. He doesn’t relent until you whine at the oversensitivity. He lets you settle down and he climbs in over you. 

You are just now realizing that in his haste to taste you, he failed take off a stitch of his own clothing. You reach for elastic waistband of his pants and push them down just far enough to release him. The second he is freed, he rests his cock in between your slick thighs. Sam rocks himself between your flesh. With each lazy thrust he nudges against your clit and sends a volt of electricity through your veins. 

He moves to spread your knees apart so he can insert himself inside of you. You tangle his fingers with yours and pull his hands away from your legs to stop him. You shake your head with a subtle yet purposeful movement. The look of concern that plagued his brows washes away when a soft smile spreads across your lips. He hasn’t seen you smile in months. He has missed that light in your eyes.

You hook your legs around his waist and flip his large, yet unsuspecting, form onto his back. You bite your lip as you rid him of the rest of his clothing with lazy effort. You’re in no rush for this to be over. 

Once he is bare for you, you cannot stop your fingers from wrapping around his neglected cock. You lick the palm of your hand before squeezing the base and giving him slow pumps. He is already at full mast but you want to work him up even more before the main event. You lean forward and drag your tongue along his tip. You pay extra attention to his leaking slit as your fingers continue to grip him just the way he likes. 

He wants to warn you that if you keep doing what you’re doing, he will cum. But, as your other hand massages the underside of his balls, the only sound that escapes his lips is a strangles groan.

Sam can feel himself on the verge of exploding down your throat when you pull away from him. He opens his eyes to see you bending over and hanging off the bed. You reach under the bed and, just as you expected, your box of toys was right where you left it. 

You find what you are looking for and get back up on the bed. The excitement in Sam’s eyes light up the room. He darts forward and kisses you with purpose. You let the kiss linger for longer than you expected you would. You take comfort in his lips one last time. 

You push on his shoulder and he knows exactly what to do. He pulls away and settles onto his hands and knees. His fingers grip the sheet beneath him in unbridled anticipation. You look over the strap-on you had pulled out of your box of treasures and slip it up your thighs. This one was always your favourite. It has a remote controlled clitoral stimulator that gets you off while you fuck Sam. Watching him come undone for you always brings you to the edge of an orgasm. But the attached vibrator is what usually pushes you into that abyss. 

You hand the remote to Sam. You know he likes being in control of taking care of you while you take care of him. 

You get the lube out of the side table’s draw and push the pad of your thumb against Sam’s hole. He all but whimpers for you. He’s missed this. There is no one else he would trust like this. You push your thumb into him a little deeper and he pushes back against you. You work him open by periodically burying more and more fingers inside of him. As you thrust your wrist forward, you lean down and press small kisses to the base of his spine. 

Suddenly, the vibrator on your strap-on turns on. It starts off at a low level to work you back up. You take that as your cue. You lube up your rubber cock and press the tip against Sam. You grip his hips to keep him in place as you rock your hips and push inside of him. The sounds escaping his throat can only be described as guttural with subtle hints of relief. He’s missed this. He’s needed this. 

You fuck into his ass at your own pace. You dig your nails into the flesh of his ass and spread him wider for you. 

“H-harder,” he begs beneath you as he turns up the intensity of the vibrations against your clit. 

You can’t help the squeal of pleasure as your clit has unrelenting stimulation. You bite your lip and grip onto him tighter. You don’t know if your trying to keep him still or trying to hold yourself up. But either way, your nails in his skin almost draw blood. 

Your hips start snapping into him. Your hip bones slap against the flesh of his ass as you bury yourself fully inside of him. He takes it all, just as you knew he would. He relishes the feeling of having you penetrate his most private desires and own his ass in a way only you could. Sam’s eyes squeeze shut as the tip of your rubber prods against his prostate. 

Watching his back muscles ripple as he fights off his orgasm is damn near intoxicating. You bite your lip but ultimately give in and bite down onto his back. You are on the cusp but want to watch him cum for you first. You wrap your hand around his narrow hips and pump his neglected cock. It takes a few good thrusts, one or two flicks of your wrist, and encouraging words to send Sam over his cliff. He cums hard onto your hand and onto the sheet below him. 

You continue to rock your hips into his ass until you see he has stopped squeezing around your silicone dick. It is only once he settles down and lets out a contented sigh do you pull out of him. He rolls onto his back and looks up at where you are still kneeling over him. You are taking heavy breaths and fumbling with the buckle on your strap-on. Sam takes the remote you had given him and turns it up to its maximum level. 

Sam watches as you cry out and crumble onto the bed. He moves in over you. He looks down to where your thighs are shaking. You are attempting to squeeze them together despite the strap-on being in your way. 

You made him feel so good and he wants to return the favour. He reaches between your legs and pushes one of the straps out of the way. He then wiggles one of his large fingers inside your dripping hole. That extra sensation is all it takes. You to claw your fingers into the flesh of his shoulders and ride out your release. As your moans subside, Sam turns down the vibrator until it is completely off. He unbuckles your strap-on and slips it down your limp legs. 

You roll onto what used to be your side of the bed and drift to sleep without a word. Sam turns off the light and settles in behind you. He kisses your shoulder and wraps an arm around you. You two have a lot to work out but it can wait until morning. He has his first restful night’s sleep in months. The prospect of having you back under his care is all he needs. He sleeps tonight without the nightmares, in which he learns of your death, keeping him up. 

The next morning, Sam rolls over to find your half of the bed is cold. The sheets are empty. He tries to quell the panic bubbling within him. He checks the washroom, the kitchen, the library, and ultimately the garage. He sees that your car is no longer parked where he left it. 

He rushes back to his room to find his phone. When he turns it on, there is a single text waiting for him:

_ Thanks for last night. The perfect goodbye. _

  
  



End file.
